forgotten—into my account.”
Oh, Drew.
“I mean, I’m sorry to have to lay this on you in your condition, but I’m in a bit of a bind here—a bind, I point out, that could easily have been avoided if Dad hadn’t named you sole executor of his estate, or if you hadn’t gone along with it.”
Please stop.
“The current problem being,” her sister continued, bouncing none-too-gently along the side of the bed, “that I haven’t received my monthly stipend since you went into hibernation, and what with taking Sean to the Bahamas and shopping for my new spring wardrobe, I’ve maxed out all my credit cards, and pretty soon, I’m not going to be able to feed my kid. And I know how you feel about Lola, that you love her to pieces, even if you weren’t very happy about my pregnancy. And yes, in case you’re wondering, I do know who the father is. Or at least, I’ve narrowed it down to three suspects. Just kidding,” Drew added quickly. “Two,” she said under her breath. “So, what am I supposed to do, huh? I need money, your husband says I have to be patient, and this is all your fault because you’re the one who controls the purse strings. So, you tell me. How do we get out of this mess?”
I wish I knew.
“I hate to say it, but this whole situation would have been a lot easier if you’d just died.”
What?
“Then I’d have my money. The cops wouldn’t be riding my ass. I wouldn’t have to come begging to Warren….”
Oh, Drew. Do you really hate me so much?
Casey felt Drew push herself off the bed. She’d never been able to sit still for more than a minute, Casey thought, picturing her sister at the window. What does she see? Casey wondered, imagining a bright, orange sun being swallowed by a malevolent grouping of ominous black clouds.
Drew’s current financial situation was her fault, Casey was forced to acknowledge. As trustee of her father’s estate, it had been her decision to put Drew on a monthly allowance. Her sister had chafed under the imposed restrictions, railing against the unfairness of the arrangement, despite the generosity of the amount, even threatening to sue, then backing off when she learned that any challenge to her father’s will could lead to her being disinherited altogether. She’d then tried reasoning with her older sister, arguing persuasively that by putting her on an allowance, Casey was, in effect, not allowing her to grow up. She was infantilizing her, Drew had said, and Casey had been impressed enough by both the word and the argument to transfer several hundred thousand dollars to her account.
The money was gone within a year, spent on an ill-advised franchise that went quickly bankrupt, a yellow Ferrari, a few island vacations, and a lot of addictive white powder. After that, Casey had put her sister on a strict allowance. Drew subsequently sold the Ferrari, the proceeds quickly disappearing up her nose. It was around this time that Drew found herself pregnant and decided to keep the baby, although she refused to name the father. She did, however, agree to go into rehab, and she’d managed to stay clean and sober until after Lola’s birth.
The last five years had been more of the same. Casey had moved her sister into a larger apartment in Society Hill, hired a responsible older woman to look after Lola, and paid for Drew’s repeated attempts at rehab. Occasionally it looked as if Drew was about to turn a corner, only to disappear around it altogether, sometimes for weeks at a time. Just before her accident, Casey thought, refusing for the moment to think of it as anything else, she hadn’t spoken to her sister in almost a month.
Drew was right, she thought again, feeling her sister return to her bedside. She shouldn’t have put her in this position, shouldn’t have forced her to be dependent on her for what was rightfully hers. She should have divided the estate into two equal halves and let the chips fall where they may. What Drew chose to do
Oh, Drew.
“I mean, I’m sorry to have to lay this on you in your condition, but I’m in a bit of a bind here—a bind, I point out, that could easily have been avoided if Dad hadn’t named you sole executor of his estate, or if you hadn’t gone along with it.”
Please stop.
“The current problem being,” her sister continued, bouncing none-too-gently along the side of the bed, “that I haven’t received my monthly stipend since you went into hibernation, and what with taking Sean to the Bahamas and shopping for my new spring wardrobe, I’ve maxed out all my credit cards, and pretty soon, I’m not going to be able to feed my kid. And I know how you feel about Lola, that you love her to pieces, even if you weren’t very happy about my pregnancy. And yes, in case you’re wondering, I do know who the father is. Or at least, I’ve narrowed it down to three suspects. Just kidding,” Drew added quickly. “Two,” she said under her breath. “So, what am I supposed to do, huh? I need money, your husband says I have to be patient, and this is all your fault because you’re the one who controls the purse strings. So, you tell me. How do we get out of this mess?”
I wish I knew.
“I hate to say it, but this whole situation would have been a lot easier if you’d just died.”
What?
“Then I’d have my money. The cops wouldn’t be riding my ass. I wouldn’t have to come begging to Warren….”
Oh, Drew. Do you really hate me so much?
Casey felt Drew push herself off the bed. She’d never been able to sit still for more than a minute, Casey thought, picturing her sister at the window. What does she see? Casey wondered, imagining a bright, orange sun being swallowed by a malevolent grouping of ominous black clouds.
Drew’s current financial situation was her fault, Casey was forced to acknowledge. As trustee of her father’s estate, it had been her decision to put Drew on a monthly allowance. Her sister had chafed under the imposed restrictions, railing against the unfairness of the arrangement, despite the generosity of the amount, even threatening to sue, then backing off when she learned that any challenge to her father’s will could lead to her being disinherited altogether. She’d then tried reasoning with her older sister, arguing persuasively that by putting her on an allowance, Casey was, in effect, not allowing her to grow up. She was infantilizing her, Drew had said, and Casey had been impressed enough by both the word and the argument to transfer several hundred thousand dollars to her account.
The money was gone within a year, spent on an ill-advised franchise that went quickly bankrupt, a yellow Ferrari, a few island vacations, and a lot of addictive white powder. After that, Casey had put her sister on a strict allowance. Drew subsequently sold the Ferrari, the proceeds quickly disappearing up her nose. It was around this time that Drew found herself pregnant and decided to keep the baby, although she refused to name the father. She did, however, agree to go into rehab, and she’d managed to stay clean and sober until after Lola’s birth.
The last five years had been more of the same. Casey had moved her sister into a larger apartment in Society Hill, hired a responsible older woman to look after Lola, and paid for Drew’s repeated attempts at rehab. Occasionally it looked as if Drew was about to turn a corner, only to disappear around it altogether, sometimes for weeks at a time. Just before her accident, Casey thought, refusing for the moment to think of it as anything else, she hadn’t spoken to her sister in almost a month.
Drew was right, she thought again, feeling her sister return to her bedside. She shouldn’t have put her in this position, shouldn’t have forced her to be dependent on her for what was rightfully hers. She should have divided the estate into two equal halves and let the chips fall where they may. What Drew chose to do
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